


Snapshots

by Kalajorn



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dabbles, Depression, Ficlet, Gen, Two Shot, less than 500 words each, takes place after Stan leaves home and before the portal incident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-21 04:58:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11936796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalajorn/pseuds/Kalajorn
Summary: A little peak into the lives of Stanford and Stanley during hard times.





	1. Pitstop

Stan sunk into the seat of his diablo and slammed the door shut. Absently he ran a hand through his hair. He really needed to cut it; he was going to have a mullet soon. It was a miserable day. The heat seemed to be sucking out all his energy. His air-conditioning had stopped working a year or two ago and he had never got around to getting it fixed.

He sighed and tugged at the off-white sleeve of his button up shirt. There were some dirt and grease stains on it from the con that had gone wrong this morning. Turns out the people around here were not quite the suckers he had taken them for. Or maybe it was just him. It felt like every job he did was harder to pull off. Stan was starting to wonder how much longer he could do this for. How much longer he wanted to. He was just so tired.

A semi truck pulled into the gas station and Stan watched as the driver hopped out and started fueling.

Maybe he could settle down somewhere and get a steady job. It would certainly be harder with a criminal record and no high school education, but he could probably find something. 

It felt like that would be admitting defeat. If he settled he could never prove his worth to his father or earn his brother’s forgiveness. He didn’t want to be alone. He was just so tired.

Stan reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a worn photo. He and Ford looked so happy and carefree. The sight of his father brought mixed feelings, but that was nothing new. For a moment he entertained the idea of calling his brother, but he quickly dismissed it. He couldn’t keep doing that.

He shoved the photo back into the glove box and turned the key.

_Just a little farther_ , Stan thought.


	2. Broken Pieces

Stanford bolted back into the house after leaving the postcard in the mailbox. His head throbbed painfully from the metal plate that he had yet to get used to. Unfortunately it had not blocked Bill out completely like he hoped, but at least his body was now his again. Too many times he had awoke in the portal room or some other place he had not gone to sleep. Once he had woken up while falling down the stairs.

He locked and boarded up the door and then grabbed his crossbow and curled up opposite it. From his chair he could still see the door to the basement as well as the entryway. He really should get some sleep. He felt his eyes getting heavy and jerked upright in a fit of panic. Bill would come if he slept, he would taunt him, show him things he didn’t want to see or know.

With shaking hands Stanford set the crossbow down on his lab and then whiped his eyes. To his surprise they were wet. Was he crying? When had he started crying? He drew in a shaky breath. He tried to choke it down. He wasn’t supposed to show weakness; at least that was what he had been taught.

_What does it matter? I’m alone anyway. No one cares._

With that he started sobbing wretchedly. Shuttering gasps and whimpers leaking out through his gritted teeth as the misery finally overcame him.

This wasn’t what he had wanted. He had wanted to make a difference in the world, to prove he was worth something. _“Stanford Pines, the man who changed the world.”_ He laughed bitterly through his tears at the memory.

Finally the tears subsided, leaving him drained and empty. He reached into his coat and pulled out the photo. He traced his fingertips over the image of him and Stanley standing proud with the Stan o’ War.

Maybe Stanley would still care about him. Maybe he would come. Maybe he could help Stanford. It was the only hope he had left.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote these two a while ago and figured I'd post them here.


End file.
